


Priapus

by Not_You



Category: Watchmen (Comic), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Play, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, F/M, Facials, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Sex Pollen, Size Kink, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this kinkmeme prompt:<br/>Somehow a rumor gets around that Rorschach has a huge cock. Someone has to find out if it's true, then teach him to use that thing properly! Not picky w/ pairings but no non-con please.<br/>P.S. it is totally true of course. Bonus points if partner comments what a waste it is. :D</p><p>(Not out-and-out noncon, but dubious.  Rorschach gets sex-pollen'd and is trapped with Twilight Lady and Ozymandias.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Adrian has never concerned himself much with the Twilight Lady. Her gimmick is cheap and obvious, her heists unimaginative, and besides, her fixation on Nite Owl ensures that he will almost always be the one on hand to capture her. Now they're all captured, the whore, the boss's son and the Owl's partner. The cell is about ten feet by ten, and he has yet to find a feasible way out. Perhaps Rorschach could be boosted up and persuaded to get one skinny arm into the ducting, but he's flat on his back, looking incongruously comfortable with his hat tipped over his eyes. Adrian has often thought that medication could help this clearly disturbed man, but the glittering silver dust that sticks to his coat and spangles the mask is definitely not the answer. Twilight Lady is kneeling by his head, leaning over and giving him quite the view, if he'd just wake up.

"Ozymandias, darling. I have some bad news."

"Oh?"

"This is the bad batch."

He takes a deep breath and would pray for strength, were he a praying man. They're only in here because one of Leslie's girls has decided to go into business for herself, turning a simple bust into a complete mess. Nite Owl is laid up with a bad sprain, Twilight Lady is a queen deposed to her own dungeon, and Rorschach has been knocked out with a sleeping powder now revealed as part of 'the bad batch'.

"Will he live?"

"Probably more than the poor uptight thing ever has, really."

"And how would knockout powder accomplish this?"

"This stuff came out as an aphrodisiac so heavy I don't like it."

"Oh."

"He should be feeling it any second now, and... Wow. Oh, wow." Not very eloquent, but full of meaning none the less. Rorschach is most definitely feeling it, and it turns out that the rumors the Comedian has been industriously spreading are far from false. And that the way he's been calling Rorschach 'Tripod' ever since sharing a restroom with him has a basis beyond his need to disconcert people. "I begin to wonder if the poor boy tapes it to his leg for patrol. We should probably find out." She's businesslike as she does undoes Rorschach's pants, and Adrian shivers.

"Stop."

"Ozy, there's no way. He'll take them off himself soon enough."

"I promised Nite Owl I'd look after his partner. I won't let you rape him."

"Then will you let him die? This stuff gives you a fever, too. It rises the longer you go without fucking and would probably fry his brain like an egg in all these layers. See why I don't like it? I don't like my life or death edge to be pharmaceutical."

"Just the clothes, then." He watches as a skinny, freckled body emerges, and the Lady giggles to discover the lifts in his shoes and the holes in his socks.

"You are just adorable, Rorschach," she tells her comatose victim, and breaks several international laws by pulling off those implacable pinstriped trousers and letting out a low whistle of astonishment. Adrian has to look, and to blush for the first time this fiscal quarter to see that the tip of Rorschach's cock is showing over the waistband, looking slick and big enough to be a practical joke. It almost wouldn't seem like it belonged on his body, but there are tiny freckles on the foreskin when she eases the boxers off. "Well. I almost feel like I should set up a little altar." It's true, Rorschach is hung like a fertility god. Granted, he's so hard it'll probably hurt when he wakes up, but even at less than maximum capacity this would be impressive. Twilight Lady leans over it, broad tip almost touching her as it stands free in the air, and starts peeling off the phalanx of coat, jacket, vest, suspenders, dress shirt, and at last peels off the ribbed undershirt. Rorschach is lying there in nothing but his mask, ridiculous, massive cock throbbing lightly with his heartbeat.

"You as impressed as I am?"

"Probably."

"I mean, he must be a grower, you guys would have noticed, right? Well, you at least."

"Are you another person who assumes a man can't wear a circlet and like women?"

"Maybe the pretty tiara, but not the gold tights, honey. I'm sure you do like women. Probably like a formal dinner table with you. Boy, girl, boy, girl, and never married couples together."

He has to smile. "Now, now, that last part isn't true."


	2. Chapter 2

Adrian has never met anyone faster than himself, but Rorschach is certainly in the running. He goes from flat out to strangling the Twilight Lady in approximately half a second.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY CLOTHES, YOU BITCH?"

"She can't very well answer this way, you know."

"Ozymandias. Where are pants?" His voice is usually soft and a little husky. Now it's a whiskey and razor blades rasp that barely sounds human.

"Let go of her." Rorschach has actually forgotten that he's choking the life out of another human being, and recalled to himself, lets go.

"How could you let her do this to me?"

"The chemical agent that knocked you out has given you a fever."

"Among other things," Leslie croaks, coughing, a hand to her throat. "I knew you were a freak, darling."

"Underpants, Ozymandias."

"That was her idea."

"Chickenshit," she murmurs, running her fingers through her hair.

"Whore," Rorschach growls.

"You'll be one too, before long."

The erection really must be pharmaceutical in nature, because the sound Rorschach makes it purest, most unsexy terror. "It's an aphrodisiac and pyrogen, Rorschach. I'm sorry."

"No," he whimpers, clutching his head and curling into a self-protective ball, "No no no nononono..."

Adrian grimaces, all the distasteful possible solutions unfurling before his mind's eye. The Lady looks deeply worried, and this proof of essential decency is only a little comforting. "Rorschach. Rorschach!"

"...Yes?" He doesn't look up and he's still shaking from head to foot, but he sounds all right.

"We may be able to get out of here. I can't reach the vent, and my arm isn't slender enough to investigate it effectively anyway."

Rorschach finally looks up. "What do you need?" And damn it, the phrase shouldn't shiver down his spine like this.

"I need you to let me boost you up."

Rorschach nods, and pulls his pants on, glaring at Twilight Lady until logistical considerations distract him. Adrian can see him bite his lip under the mask, and he hisses almost inaudibly as he crams himself back into the pinstripes. He's still graceful, and is standing on Adrian's shoulders in a moment, plastered against the wall with his arm buried in the ducting. Adrian braces himself against the wall and does his best to ignore Rorschach's feet on his shoulders. They're smaller than he would have expected, and when he risks a sidelong glance, disturbingly perfect, with delicate freckles, high arches and a hammertoe from an old injury that only adds a touch of crooked charm.

"You like feet." She sounds delighted, and Adrian groans inwardly.

"Must we have this conversation now?"

"Just last week I found the most perfect pair of blood red patent leather pumps..."

"Leather is murder and patent leather is tacky murder," he grumbles.

"Typical of both of you. Soft liberalism, filth. What am I looking for?"

"Anything."

"Nothing. Wait." There's a scratching, scrabbling noise, and he hops down with a small canister in one hand. It's brushed aluminum with black rubber caps, and the label on the side says simply: SMILE

"Oh my god, I'd forgotten I had that. Don't open it."

"What is it?" Rorschach asks, turning it over in hands and somehow ignoring an erection that's actually painful to look at.

"Laughing gas. We can blast anyone dumb enough to come by, but that's about it."

"I see." Rorschach pushes his mask up, panting.

"Ozy hasn't told you the whole story, I'm afraid."

"Not surprised."

She tells him about the relationship between the drug's effects, and he crumples to the floor in hopelessness. It's distressing to see. "I wish I could say I wouldn't touch you without your permission, but I'm not letting you die."

"Would vastly prefer death."

"Ouch."

"Lady, this isn't funny."

"...No. It's not." She sighs, crouching by Rorschach. "I know you're a hardass, sweetie, but think of D--Nite Owl. He'd never get over it."

"Always knew death in the line of duty was a possibility."

"Yes, but not like this. Would it really be so horrible?"

"Yes," he growls.

"Well, masturbation will help for a while." Adrian can't tell if the flush on his face and chest is from the fever or her words. "Maybe we'll bust out before it gets really bad."


	3. Chapter 3

Turning their backs has only made things worse, as far as Adrian's concerned. Rorschach is quiet, but not quiet enough. There's the small and unavoidable sound of his hand (both hands, probably, and Adrian feels slightly faint) on his slick flesh, and quiet, harsh breathing. Twilight Lady has revealed a hidden well of human decency, not even trying to peek. There's a strangled noise behind them, and Adrian shivers.

"Is it helping?"

"Yes... No. Kill me."

"You know we're not doing that, sweetie."

"If you do turn out to require assistance, what's your orientation?"

"Spoken like a real gentleman, Ozy."

"Hate you both."

"So you're AC/DC, because you hate everyone equally?"

"Puerile term," Rorschach growls, and the small, sliding sounds start up again.

"You know, I've always wondered what your problem is."

"Not a problem," he growls, "tattered remains of virtue."

"Honey, it's a problem. You're terrified of my girls."

He growls as if he's about to deny it, then cuts himself off with a pointed silence that makes Adrian grit his teeth.

"Is that working out all right?"

"No," Rorschach moans. "You lied to me."

"Hey, I said it might work. There is a big difference between a self-inflicted orgasm and the other kind."

He groans in purest misery. "Whoredom or homosexuality are my only choices."

"I'm glad you've decided to live," Adrian says.

"I require vengeance."

"And so do I, sweetie. Despite all the nasty things you've said to me, I'll help you out as best I can."

"Hurm." He's quiet then, and jerks off again while he thinks it over. Adrian does his best not to whimper. "H-hands only," he growls, "No further perversions."

"Whose hands?" Adrian murmurs.

"Hers. Not sullying a fellow mask."

"You have one warped sense of honor, baby."

"No. Endearments."

Adrian has to laugh at that, despite the heartbreaking psychological damage it reveals.

"All right, all right. Good God! You've got to be... Jesus. Probably ten damn inches and thicker than my wrist! Tell me, do you lean on this thing when your legs get tired?"

"Shut up!"

"Don't torment him, he has deep-seated problems."

"Don't we all. All right, just think happy thoughts." Rorschach lets out a desperate, strangled groan, and Twilight Lady chuckles. "Goddamn it's a shame you don't get out more. This is some of the most perfect cock I have ever handled."

"Disgusting," Rorschach snarls.

"No it's not! You've got this nice, soft, slidey foreskin, and it's even got little freckles on it. And you keep clean, I'm glad to see."

"Shut up, you filthy--ohh!"

"You only touch yourself to wash, I can't believe you've got this much left. Our male test subjects were dry by now."

Rorschach just whimpers, and Adrian shudders, so hard it hurts. His heartbeat pounds in his cock, and he has to breathe very carefully to keep from whimpering along with Rorschach. "Getting a sympathy boner over there?"

"It's unavoidable at this point."

"I'm sorry, Ozymandias," Rorschach whispers, and he really sounds like he means it, husky and vulnerable. Adrian bites back a groan.

"It's not your fault."

"And it could be a lot of fun, you know. Feeling any better?"

"No."

"I know you said just hands, but..."

Rorschach groans. "Do what you have to."

"You don't need to act like you're giving up a kidney, honey. Let's see what oral does for you."

Adrian does whine at that, but is drowned out by Rorschach's loud, guttural groan. He can't stop himself from glancing over his shoulder. Rorschach's hands are knotted in the Twilight Lady's hair, his head tipped back and his mouth a helpless circle under the latex, toes tightly curled. She purrs, both hands squeezing that massive cock as she fights to wrap her lips around the broad head. She's right about the freckles on his foreskin, and Adrian looks away again and takes a deep breath, his head spinning.

"I might need a little help with this."

Adrian does his best not to moan, turning around and crawling over, blushing around his mask as Rorschach stares down at them. The Lady moves over for him, and flashes him a wicked grin as he stretches out on his belly and lowers his head.


	4. Chapter 4

Rorschach is sobbing, breathlessly apologizing and whimpering about homosexuality and deviance and the bits he can catch are breaking Adrian's heart. There's no time for that, though. All of them are flushed with arousal, but Rorschach is too hot and he's got a latex bag over his head. He's gone from a low-grade fever to a real one, and shows no signs of stopping. His cock is hot and Adrian can't help a little moan, tracing the edge of Rorschach's foreskin with the pointed tip of his tongue as the Twilight Lady sucks harder, from the side and near the base, making Rorschach's hips buck. A moment later he's coming, blasting Adrian's mask. Rorschach raises his head a little and makes an indescribable sound when he sees, dropping it back again.

"That's a good look for you," the Lady purrs, and Adrian does his best not to whimper.

"Filthy!" Rorschach sobs, and Adrian sighs.

"Is it filthy to take painkillers when you're in pain? To eat when you're starving?" Rorschach fidgets, looking away, and Adrian sighs. "Even if you do think so, you have to grit your teeth and do it."

Rorschach sighs and looks away. "...Yes."

"I promise to respect you in the morning," Twilight Lady adds, and Rorschach growls and then groans as she stretches her lips to take the head of his cock into her mouth. It's a strain, but one she sounds happy to make, humming.

"N-not-- oh god... Not strong, not strong at all, weak and filthy and lustful and--aaooohhh..." Adrian shudders, licking the shaft as he rubs just behind Rorschach's balls, making him melt. He begs them to stop and to continue in the same breath, sobbing as he comes again. Adrian whines, and drags himself out of his tights, wet and aching.

"Fuck, Rorschach," Twlight Lady murmurs, rubbing soothing circles on his belly. "It's okay, honey."

"I need more," Rorschach moans, and Adrian shuts his eyes for a long moment, wondering if he's going to come just from hearing that. Twilight Lady shudders, and pulls condoms out of a nearly invisible pocket in her leather.

"There's only a couple ways we can do that, honey."

Rorschach whines and writhes, crossing his forearms over his mask. "Anything!" His voice breaks, and he shudders all over.

"Fuck," Twilight Lady murmurs, and Adrian whimpers, biting his lip.

"Rorschach, I'm going to try penetrating you." Rorschach makes a desperate mewling noise that's just as terrified as it is aroused, and Adrian kisses his belly in what he hopes is a reassuring way. "Just one finger. I promise not to hurt you."

"Hang on, lemme get you some lube..."

"Thank you."

Rorschach is whimpering again, eyes shut tight enough to wrinkle the mask. Adrian shivers, and rubs his belly, murmuring that he's not going to hurt Rorschach, that if it doesn't feel good, doesn't help, he'll stop. Rorschach whines, but opens his legs and lets Adrian touch him. Twilight Lady is watching them with bright eyes, shivering. Rorschach squirms at the first light stroke, but relaxes into the firm rubbing that follows. His mouth hangs open, no words for how filthy this is anymore, moaning and then crying out as Adrian carefully slips inside. He's incredibly tight, a lifetime of tension and self-denial in these muscles, but Adrian feels the way he always does with his fingers inside someone. As if he has all the time in the world to tease them open, as if nothing else matters. Rorschach squirms and whimpers and then groans, long and very deep as the pad of Adrian's finger slides across his prostate. Just a little more makes him come again, and he mewls, quivering. Adrian backs off for a moment, and just stretches lightly, circling with that one finger, not breaking his promise. Rorschach growls and trembles, whining as the Twilight Lady covers his neck in kisses.

"More," he moans at last, flushing all over. "Please, more."

"More what, Rorschach?" Twilight Lady murmurs, gently biting his ear and making him cry out.

"F-fingers," he whines, sobbing slightly with humiliation.

Adrian groans, resting his forehead on the floor for a moment before adding more lube and a cautious second finger. Rorschach moans again, hands covering his masked face. "More?" He whimpers, breathless and shy.

"You're killing Ozy, baby. You're goddamn killing him."

"A-ap-pologize for embroiling you in deviaaahh!" He squirms and pants as Adrian stretches him with three fingers.

"How does that feel?" Adrian purrs, and Rorschach whines, throwing one arm across his eyes. "Good?"

"Good," Rorschach whispers, and lets Adrian fuck him through two more orgasms, gasping and writhing.


	5. Chapter 5

Leslie has to admit that she's impressed. Rorschach lasts a damn long time before he finally lets her ride him. She's already soaking wet from everything else, and rolls a rubber onto that massive fucking cock and then eases herself down after it. It's enough to make a girl get religion. Well, a size queen, anyway. This is heavy equipment and could really hurt someone who's more of a deer than a mare, but Leslie likes it big, and Rorschach is huge. She sinks down and down and down, panting softly as Rorschach stretches her open. The head is so wide and thick, and he rolls delicately inside her like European boys do, foreskin shifting under the condom as she wriggles her way down, panting as he gets deeper and deeper. She can feel Ozymandias watching her, and doesn't play it up. She just makes real sounds of effort, and finally laughs softly when she touches wiry red pubic hair. Rorschach whimpers, and she smiles down at him and strokes his masked cheek. She knows he's fucked up, but when he says, "Am I hurting you?" In a child's tiny and terrified whisper, it breaks her heart.

"No, baby," she says, softer and sweeter than she means to, petting him and letting him adjust to being inside her. "You feel good." And he does feel good. Way fucking better than good, but she tries to stay quiet as she starts to move, knowing this poor bent bastard will misunderstand her cries. Fuck, it's difficult, though, with Rorschach rubbing all the right spots at once, stretching her and working so deep. "Do I feel good to you, honey?" She murmurs, and Rorschach whimpers that she does, and she's horribly certain that he's crying under there. She leans down and kisses his chapped lips, cupping his face and feeling humid latex and hot skin. He's cooler now, though, a low-grade fever instead of a dangerous one.

Leslie loses track of how many times she comes, and she and Ozymandias do their best to teach Rorschach how to use what he's got. He whimpers and keens under them, and doesn't let Ozy's cock into his ass no matter how desperate he gets. Leslie gets the sense that he's saving himself for someone. If that someone is Nite Owl and she never gets to watch, she's going to be most seriously displeased. It's hard to hang onto that idea, though, because Rorschach's cock is huge and perfect inside her. She rides him until he's finally soft again, and lies down next to him with an arm across his chest, letting Ozymandias get everyone's clothes in order. She gives him a blowjob she's almost too tired to remember for being a good sport, and then cuddles in against Rorschach's side and passes out for a while. She should be plotting her escape and her revenge, but there's just no way.

When Nite Owl kicks the door in, Leslie is satisfied to see that Ozymandias and Rorschach are also just waking up. The cell reeks of sex and Rorschach scrambles into a guilty, fetal ball, looking away from his partner.

"Nite Owl," Ozymandias says, standing. "Good to see you."

"What the hell happened here?"

Leslie explains. Rorschach looks like he wants to sink through the floor, black blots roiling over his cheeks.

"…Oh."

Nite Owl leads the way out, and Rorschach is all business again, not looking at anyone. Leslie can only hope she hasn't broken the poor boy as she hares off to deal with the little bitch who got her into this mess in the first place. Ozymandias is still apologizing to both of them as Leslie leaves, and she hopes it will all work out.

A month later she catches Rorschach and Nite Owl holding hands in a quiet alley, and has to smile.


End file.
